


Let's Snuggle Forever

by gloss



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Sex, Banter, Breathplay, M/M, OTP Feels, Porn with Feelings, Post-TRoS, Post-War, established but long-distance relationship, rough-ish sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24448603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: Poe comes to visit and there's wrestling and fucking and cuddling to be had.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 11
Kudos: 133
Collections: Dick or Treat - Scrohto Region





	Let's Snuggle Forever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hegemony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hegemony/gifts).



> For dear L. and the [Dick Or Treat](https://dick-or-treat.dreamwidth.org/) challenge, to write some porn titled after a [Pokémon move](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/List_of_moves): _**Let's Snuggle Forever** is a Fairy type Z-Move exclusive to Mimikyu. It is used with **Play Rough.**_

In the grand scheme of things, the fact that they don't dare live together is _nothing_. They defeated the Sith renaissance! (Rey did that, but they helped.) They freed the galaxy from the threat of renewed authoritarian despotism! They're working hard to build a life of freedom and self-determination for all, across the stars! Given all that, given how much there is yet to accomplish, what kind of petty, selfish, narrow-minded fool would complain about missing his boyfriend?

Being apart still sucks bantha-balls. 

Finn is working on resettlement and social reintegration for ex-FO flunkies and troopers. Out in the Mid-Rim, he's currently posing as a mid-level bureaucrat from one of the obscure development ministries. He has an office in a failing habitation-plex, one of those mega-buildings that attempt to bring living, work, and leisure all under a single roof. Those single roofs looked to Poe, from the air, like particularly bad pimples on a teenager's chin.

For his part, Poe has been playing the whole postwar playboy pirate to the hilt, pretending to be that reckless guy with nothing left to lose but determined to keep pushing his luck with each new stunt. It's a lot of fun, it brings in some sweet intel, but it's also fucking _exhausting_ a lot of the time. Next time they shift responsibilities, he's determined to get a boring office job like Finn's.

(The real dream, actually, is that there won't be a next time; these current half-roles, half-reality will fade away and he and Finn can fly off into a binary sunset together, bickering all the way. Possibly while making out. Hand jobs, at the very least, will be happening.)

"Hey, you're way too goodlooking to be a civil servant," Poe says when he arrives. Finn's office is the only occupied one on this block, and it still took a frustratingly long time to find him. "I call shenanigans."

"You're early," Finn says. He checks his datapad. "You're half a day early?"

"What can I say, I'm extremely efficient," Poe says as he sheds his jacket, dropping it on the floor, and starts to untuck his jersey. "I like to, how to put this, _make the most of my time_." 

He puts his hands on his hips and, lifting his chin slightly, gives Finn an intense come-hither stare, complete with what seems to be (an attempt at) a rakish smile.

Finn squints. "Are you _leering_?" 

Poe cocks a brow. "Yeah, isn't it obvious?" He licks his lower lip. "And... _intriguing_?"

"Thought maybe you had a mild case of hyperspace nausea." Finn stows his datapad and stands. "Pick up your jacket."

"I just got here!"

"Yeah, and now you're leaving." Finn edges around him, not without shoulder-checking Poe as he passes. He grabs Poe around the neck, as if for a noogie or to start a wrestling grapple, only to kiss him lightly, then move onward.

"I'm getting a lot of mixed signals," Poe says, juggling his jacket and satchel as he hurries to catch up. "This is highly distressing."

Finn snorts. "Yeah, you sound distressed, all right."

"Where are you going?"

Finn stops at the scratched-up curtain to the lift. "Since you're here early, I can go early. Let's get a move on."

Poe looks around the nondescript office. "Move on to where?"

Finn elbows him just as the lift arrives. "Where do you think?"

Poe follows him into the lift; the flimsy metal curtain slides shut and the lift drops stomach-flippingly fast. "Where do —"

He doesn't get the rest out. Finn pushes him into the far corner and holds him there. They're the same height, but Finn's stronger, and broader, not to mention younger, and he's got the old trooper training on how to immobilize malcontents.

Not that Poe is anything near "malcontent".

Finn blankets him, grip on Poe's wrist folding his arm up across his chest, shoulder pushed low and firm against Poe's, legs spread to box in Poe's. He's about three centimeters away, more pressure and heat than a recognizable face, when he says lowly, "What are you laughing at?"

"Me," Poe says and tips his head back. The lift keeps plummeting. Finn grinds a little against him. "I'm ridiculous and you're amazing and I'm so fucking turned on right now."

"Is that so?" Finn leans back, looks down Poe's torso, and wedges his forearm across Poe's throat. "You like getting manhandled?"

"I like getting handled, man. By a man. You man. You know."

"Idiot," Finn says fondly and Poe tries to shrug but he really is pretty well trapped. Besides, there's nothing to argue over.

"Thinking about crowd control," Poe tries to explain. His mouth is dry and his chest is starting to ache. "And dealing with disobedience."

"Huh." Finn shifts his hips and weight forward, sliding his arm off Poe's throat — the air that he can suddenly breathe is sharp — only to press his face into the hollow at Poe's throat. He slides his mouth up Poe's neck, to his ear, then behind, working the lobe with unexpected teeth. "You're really into this."

"Man," Poe says. "I'm into —"

The lift careens to a stop and they're tossed apart. Finn tosses him a grin over his shoulder as they step off into the housing level. He looks, in that flashing moment, incredibly young and carefree, _joyous_. Poe follows him down the unfamiliar corridor and around several turns, attempting discreetly to adjust himself, but he keeps getting distracted by how wide and stacked Finn's ass looks in his trousers.

"New pants?" he asks.

Finn is busy unlocking the entrance to his capsule and doesn't answer him. He does, however, push back encouragingly when Poe crowds up against him and cops a feel.

"Get inside, Dameron."

"Trying!"

"Feels like you're _trying_ to strip me in a common-access corridor."

"That, too," Poe says and pushes. Finn doesn't move. "Get out of my way, then."

Finally the entrance admits them; three panels pull apart from the center and retreat, rattling, into the ceiling and the wall on either side. Poe would stop and check out the mechanism on that, because it's frankly very cool, but Finn's executing one of his best maneuvers — bent low at the waist, shifting anxiously from foot to foot, he knocks Poe off-balance, gets his arms around Poe's thighs, and flip-tosses him over his shoulder. 

Poe hits the wall inside the flat and his head rings with the impact. But his blood is also _zapping_ with exhilaration, and he slides forward to knock Finn back. They land in what feels like a pile of laundry, but then the lights finally come up and Poe sees that it's a fold-down bunk piled with blankets and quilts.

"Get cold all alone at night?" he asks, scrabbling to pull Finn over on top of him.

"Who says I'm alone?"

"Good point. Asshole."

"That's me, sure," Finn says, wriggling, driving an elbow into Poe's ribs, and finally, with a victorious cry, climbing on top of Poe to straddle his waist. "Well-known asshole."

They're both panting and sweating. Poe's ears are ringing as he slides his palms up and down Finn's muscular thighs.

"Speaking of..." 

"Of what?"

Poe grins. "Assholes. Specifically ours."

Groaning, Finn bends over to kiss him, and then kiss him some more. They're both hungry for it, and breathless, and the kiss prolongs the wrestling match before tempering it into another phase. Finn gets both their flies open and cocks out, while Poe manages to crab-walk back on his elbows higher up onto the bunk.

When the kiss ends, for the moment, they've got their fingers interlaced and jacking themselves. Finn's looking down at him with those wide, bright, joyous eyes and Poe thrusts up at him, noise caught in his throat.

"Gimme a second —"

He lifts himself free and rummages in one of the pouches hanging from the opposite wall. Poe rolls onto his side and looks around the flat.

"You said it was small," he says. "But this is..."

"Minuscule, yeah." Having shed his pants, Finn climbs back on the bunk with the lube. He pokes Poe's waist. "Why are you still dressed?"

"I didn't want to presume?"

"First time for everything, I guess," Finn says and yanks off his shirt. "Want to catch up with me, or what?"

"Want to ogle you, actually," Poe replies. Finn's cock is out and hard and shining with pre-come, and it's making Poe's mouth water. But so is the rest of Finn, so there's too much to take in at any one moment.

"Well," Finn says, tugging down Poe's trousers. "I want you naked, so let's go with that."

"Sir, yes, sir."

"Better," Finn says, straddling Poe again. He takes his time looking Poe up and down, his gaze intent, his mouth fighting a smile. Poe resists the impulse to preen and display himself; they've been apart too long and the mood is different now. When Finn looks back up and meets Poe's eyes, he asks, "Now, what were you saying about immobilizing disobedience?"

"Fuck." All the oxygen leaves his body by the quickest possible route; Poe has to fight to keep conscious and _not_ shoot his load. He grunts, tries to prop himself up on an elbow, but Finn presses him back down. "You know. Tricks to keep people in line. Discipline and shit."

"Yeah, I know." Finn's hand flexes and clutches at Poe's chest. "I got it."

He uses one shed sock to tie Poe's wrist to one of the hooks on the wall, and has Poe hold onto the end of the sock with his other hand. Poe's spread diagonally across the bunk, his cock dark and hard, leaking, as his chest flushes and face burns and Finn takes his sweet, obnoxious time fingering him open.

"What part of _still_ is so hard for you?" Finn asks at one point. He has Poe's leg over his shoulder and three fingers perpendicular inside him.

"I'm trying."

"Are you, though?" He adds another squeeze of lube and turns his hand so his knuckles spread Poe's hole parallel to the bunk. Inside, Poe is fluttering and superheated, the flesh incredibly tender over strong rings of muscle that clutch and suck.

"I am," Poe swears. "I am. I really am."

When Finn finally withdraws his hand and lines up his dick, the speed of his thrust and the relief Poe feels at it push him a little ways off the bunk. His head hangs off at an awkward angle; his bound wrist keeps his arm extended at full length.

"Fuck," Poe says at the same time that Finn rocks two, three, four more times and he's buried all the way in, crouching over Poe, bending his leg between them.

There's no other feeling like this, Finn knows that all too well: the heat and the thundering panic, just out of reach, in contrast to the deeper, yearning stillness inside Poe, if only he could get deep enough, find the right rhythm.

Poe is wheezing as Finn fucks him, full strokes from the slit on his head to the very root of his cock; Poe pushes back and Finn pushes up and in and they pant together. Finn reaches up to touch Poe's face, finger-fuck his mouth, then settles the crotch of his hand, thumb spread away from fingers, against the base of Poe's throat.

"Still and _silent_ ," he says and Poe nods furiously, agreeing even as he chokes on what little air he has.

He doesn't actually stay quiet. Neither of them sincerely wants that so much as the reminder that Finn knows how to make that happen. Poe wheezes and moans and Finn squeezes. Poe kicks him, babbles apologetically, finally gets his leg around Finn's ass and the angle changes, going straighter and further. 

Finn's thrusts get faster, his hips rabbiting, his breath breaking in his throat. 

"Harder," Poe gasps. His face is already dark red and tears glitter on his eyelashes. "Make me —"

"Man, no way." It'd be so easy, going back to all of that. Finn pulls his hand off the base of Poe's throat. When he sits back on his heels, his dick shifts almost all the way out. Only the head stays in, and that's because Poe's grunting and clenching down as he scrabbles fingernails on Finn's thighs to get closer. "This is getting intense."

" _Getting?_ " Poe rocks his hips, arches his back, shimmies enough so his head hangs off the edge of the bunk. Stubborn jackass.

"Get the fuck back up here," Finn says. He pulls Poe up by the elbow of his bound arm, hauling him close. For a second, Poe is deadweight, just heavy sweaty limbs and breathless noises, but then his back is arching again, outside of his control, as he starts coming.

Finn jacks him the rest of the way, feeling the orgasm corkscrew and tug at his own cock, watching the pleasure wash in irregular waves over Poe's face. When he flops back, Finn drives in, fucks through the twitches and whimpers of afterglow, comes when he's so far inside that Poe's voice goes soprano-high. Poe babbles something silly and crude and affectionate — _yeah, babe, do it, fill me up_ or the equivalent — so even as he's collapsing and trembling atop Poe, Finn's also laughing. 

The laughter shakes him almost as much as orgasm did, rattling him around, until he's got tears in his eyes and a stitch in his side and he thinks he might cry a little.

Poe twists free of the sock bondage and brushes his thumb across Finn's eyelids, first one, then the other. He doesn't say anything, however, not for a couple minutes.

Then: "What's for dinner? And when is it?"

Finn burrows his face against Poe's neck. "Fuck if I know."

"You're the host," Poe points out. "Shouldn't you have this all scheduled down to the microsecond?"

Finn jerks a quilt out from the tangle at the foot of the bunk and pulls it up over them. It's oriented sideways, and far too light for how cold this place gets after moonset, but it should do for the time being.

"I did have it scheduled," he murmurs, then kisses Poe shallowly. His mouth hurts and throbs, like it only does when they're together. It's the sweetest feeling. He deepens the kiss, thrills at the slide of Poe's tongue, and shivers down to the soles of his feet. "You messed up all my plans. Kind of a pattern with you."

"You're welcome," Poe says, wrapping his arm around Finn's shoulder and tracing little curlicues on the far side of Finn's neck. He kisses Finn's head, the soft twists of his hair, the end of one eyebrow, and tucks the corner of the quilt under his arm to keep them snug.


End file.
